


It's all just an act

by Rexxy



Series: Theatre au [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Actor Enjolras, Enjolras is the son of Andre and Firman from the phantom of the opera, M/M, Set painter Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexxy/pseuds/Rexxy
Summary: In which Grantaire needs (and gets) reassurance of how much Enjolras loves him from unlikely places, Grantaire gets the family he deserves, and Enjolras makes a mistake (that works out of him in the end)





	

Grantaire, as usual, was sat by himself in the middle of the empty theatre, admiring his handiwork on the set. In a few hours, Enjolras would be on that stage in an over the top costume prancing about after Eponine. They were doing Romeo and Juliet. Grantaire hated watching that one, because Enjolras was a good actor and the death scene made him cry every time. He always watched from the side of the stage with the actors waiting to go on stage, and was ever astounded by Enjolras’ ability to completely enrapture an audience. The way he moved and spoke were captivating, especially to the artist. Enjolras always played love so well, and it concerned Grantaire far more than he let on, because though Enjolras said he was only thinking of Grantaire during those scenes, he knows he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. He sometimes found his traitorous mind thinking it was just an act so that he would keep working at the theatre for free, but then he knew that was a lie, because he had a home to go to with Enjolras and the theatre was good for him, gave him what he needed to do his artwork on the side for free, granted he paint the sets in the same circumstances. 

He was wringing his hat nervously in his hands and still letting his mind wander to uncertainty when he heard footsteps coming towards him from the back of the theatre. He turned to find one of Enjolras’ fathers coming towards him. His immediate reaction was to stand and bow. “Mr Andre, sir, am I not allowed to be here? I’m sorry I’ll just-“ 

Grantaire stopped when a firm hand grabbed his shoulder. “Calm down Grantaire, I’m not going to evict you. Please, call me Gilles, it’s terribly confusing when me and my husband are together.” He chuckled and Grantaire felt himself relax. “I saw you enter here a good hour ago and thought perhaps you were lonely. Please, sit.” Grantaire obliged and sank back down into the red, velvet seat. 

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, dear, chairs are made to be sat in are they not?” Grantaire smiled and nodded. Gilles sat in the seat next to Grantaire and they both looked at the set for a moment. “You are truly the most talented artist I have ever encountered Grantaire, your work is positively exquisite.’

“Forgive me sir but I have to disagree.”

“Oh?”

“You see if art is an imaginative depiction of human nature, there is nothing more beautiful and emotionally moving that the work of your son. Nothing, not the work of DaVinci nor Michelangelo can even hope to compare to the absolute supremacy of your son’s art. He is by definition perfect and an honour to witness. There is a passion in him that I could never capture in a set or on a canvass.”

“Those are powerful words. It truly is a wonder to witness love between two minds so equally matched. He talks of you like that often. Before you were in a relationship me and his father got sick of hearing about you. We know you more than you do I’m certain. Grantaire, who’s favourite colour is green, who’s eyes though blue look tinted green by the light of fire, who’s temper is controlled but fierce, who keeps a flask in the inside left pocket of his waistcoat. We were delighted when Jehan told us that you had accepted and returned our son’s feelings. He’s never been happier, you know?” Grantaire smiled but it did not reach his eyes, and Gilles saw through it straight away. “I have known him my entire life. He’s never been so in love with anyone or anything, except perhaps that stuffed bear Richird bought him, Mr Francis Bearworth. Richird couldn’t stop laughing when the name tumbled from little Enjolras’ four year old mouth. He always was an unusual child, and we loved him for it, though we would have loved him no matter what. He carried that bear around for years. We had to reserve a seat for Mr Bearworth when there was a show on so that he had as much a view as we did, because it was not fair for him to be disadvantaged just because he was not like we are.” Gilles chuckled and Grantaire did also, this time the amusement and fondness showing on his face for real.

“When did he stop carrying him around?” Grantaire asked, and Gilles smiled at him.

“When he was 11 years old, he found a boy on the streets outside of his acting class.” Grantaire tried to keep the emotion from his face. “The boy was alone, carving a picture into the floor with fallen brick when Enjolras went over to see what he was doing. He asked the boy where his parents were and the boy said ‘at home’ so Enjolras asked why he wasn’t there with them, and the boy said they’d kicked him out that night because they wanted some peace and quiet. Enjolras brought the boy home to us that night. Me and Richird were appalled by the story of course. The boy stayed at our house that night, and Enjolras, wanting to do everything he could, slept in the same bed to comfort him and make sure he didn’t feel lonely. The boy left the next day to go back home but came back every week until he eventually just got a job here. I haven’t so much seen a glimpse of Mr Bearworth since that night.” Grantaire sat speechless for a few moments.

“Thank you for doing that. I never spoke much that evening. I didn’t even give you my name or a reason to take me in.”

“You’ve thanked us too much for that. It was common decency, you repaid us well with your talent and you’ve made our son happier than that bear ever did. You must believe that he loves you, more than anything. Your name so much as pops up in conversation and he is smiling himself giddy. You are important to him and you are important to this family, Grantaire. We haven’t spoken, you and I, nor you and Richard, since that night, but now that you’re a prominent part of his life, not that you weren’t before, we’re here for you. If you don’t mind me asking, what did come of your parents?”

“Andre! You can’t ask him that, you were having such lovely moment.”

“Firman.” Gilles said with barely concealed amusement. “How long have you been there.”

“From around our son-in-law-to-be’s speech about Enjolras.”

“It was very good wasn’t it?”

“Divine.”

Richard walked from the back of the theatre and sat on the other side of Grantaire. “I apologise for his forwardness.”

“It’s alright, truly. To answer the question though, I was really kicked out not a few months after I stayed the night with Enjolras because my parents could no longer afford to feed me, so I went and joined work in a household, cleaning chimneys and other small places grown men and women couldn’t reach. I found shelter in an old barn. It was cold in winters but I lasted alright, what with all of the abandoned hay to surround me and keep in the heat. I had to leave it when it flooded though, then I simply lived behind an old bakery. The lady that owned it would bring me some of the things that weren’t too good looking to eat out of pity, though sometimes I believed she did it on purpose, because there was at least one thing every day. I paid her what I could from cleaning, which was never enough, but she accepted it gladly, then when she passed away, her husband came to me and gave me a bag with all the money she’d ever accepted and told me she was saving it for me, and with it I got myself a small singular room at a hotel. I worked for them too for a discount and lived there, cleaning after the people who went. I was never given a uniform though, just worked behind the scenes, and was told if any of the guests saw me I’d be back on the streets because I wasn’t high society you see, but I didn’t mind. I was grateful in fact.”

“And you still came back to see Enjolras every week?” Richard asked, amazed.

“He was the only thing keeping me in Paris. He was my salvation. Every time I saw him we would talk and laugh and play games and he would act for me and then he would give me a pencil and paper or paint and watch me do my art. He was all I had and I wouldn’t have given him up for the world.”

“You have a home now?”

“Since I started working here, I have shared an apartment with Enjolras. I thought he’d have told you.”

“I think he wanted you all to himself.” Richard said. “Not surprising, you’re a remarkable man, Grantaire. I’m honoured that you’re part of my family.”

Grantaire felt the tears on his cheeks and put a hand to his face. He hadn’t realised he was crying but now felt he couldn’t stop. He gave a watery chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

“Never be sorry. You are so loved Grantaire. You are a part of this family and we will make sure nothing like that ever happens to you again. If you’d told us before, we would have done something. You could have simply lived with us.” Richard hugged Grantaire from one side while Gilles did the same on the other side. They then preceded to give him praises and handkerchiefs until he stopped crying and both sat with him until the theatre door opened again, and Enjolras walked in. All three occupants turned to look at him at the same time then burst into laughter.

“Grantaire I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Have you been in here- why are you all laughing?!” He asked in an irritated tone.

“I think you should ask Mr Francis-“

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Enjolras said, cheeks flaring red. “I thought I could trust you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Enj, I’m only teasing.” Grantaire said, smiling. Enjolras rolled his eyes and looked at his fathers in turn. 

“You better not be corrupting him.”

“Nothing of the sort.” They both said at the same time. “It’s nothing short of shocking to assume so.”

Grantaire laughed. “Don’t worry, love, they’re not. I’m all yours to corrupt.” Grantaire tried to stand up, only to be pulled back down with a hand on each arm from Gilles and Richird. They also used their leverage on Grantaire to get themselves up and walked out of the isle then stood side by side. 

“Enjolras, you must go and get ready for your play. It begins in no less than an hour, and Jehan is more than eager to get your outfit ready.” 

“Fine.”

“Enjolras Andre Firman!” His fathers said.

“You are not a diva and will not act as such, we’ve lived through enough of that for one lifetime.” Richard said. “But that is a story for another time. Go and get ready. Grantaire, go with him and make sure he doesn’t have a fit.”

Enjolras huffed and turned away, Grantaire following obediently behind. Unbeknownst to him, Enjolras’ fathers smiled knowingly before disappearing from the theatre.

……………………………………………

Enjolras was passionately playing his part with the audience watching his every move as he spoke with conviction and truth. There was nothing that compared to the feeling of acting out a passionate scene, especially from a play such as this, which conveyed how unfair society was. He always found it was easier when it was something he was truly passionate about. When it was about love, he was always a little flawed until he came up with the method of pretending the object of his affection was up there with him instead of on the side-lines. The scene that he had seen that afternoon was fresh in his mind while he acted. Grantaire, smiling and happy with his parents, like he belonged there, like he believed he was truly a part of their family and the thoughts of Grantaire finding that happiness made him warm inside. It was mildly distracting thinking of his smiling face to say the least. Every time he spoke to Eponine, he was speaking to Grantaire in his mind. He was almost hesitant in his lines, but managed to keep up like normal, and then it happened. He took his stance and spoke his lines:

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?  
It is the east, and Grantaire is the sun.  
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
Who is already sick and pale with grief  
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.  
Be not her maid, since she is envious.  
Her vestal livery is but sick and green  
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.”

Everything seemed to stop as he registered his mistake. The audience was confused, and he went red immediately, then saw his fathers in their little box smiling smugly down at him. Eponine looked at him with amusement and for the first time in his life, he felt pressured in front of the audience and bolted from the stage, straight into the arms of his artist. 

“I can’t believe I just did that. I’m supposed to be a professional.”

“You really do only think of me during those scenes don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Who else would I think of?” Enjolras asked, genuinely confused as to how Grantaire’s mind worked. Why couldn’t he understand that Enjolras loved him more than anything?

“Nobody.” Grantaire said, and he actually believed it. “I love you and your family.”

“I should hope so, you are a part of it.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I love you too.”

“Thank you, now go and make a recovery you can’t just leave your audience hanging like that.” Grantaire smiled and shoved Enjolras back on stage, who made a quick apology and picked up where he left off.


End file.
